


We Are All of Us, Out of Time

by secretfeanorian



Series: the worst things in life come free to us - cut pieces [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: I wanted happy reunions, fuck angst, not much else is, so happy reunions you shall get, time is constant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretfeanorian/pseuds/secretfeanorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time never changes and time never conceals itself. It's the one constant in a world that's just so fucked up.</p><p>THIS PIECE HAS BEEN CUT FROM THE SERIES TO ALLOW ME MORE FREEDOM TO DEVELOP THE SERIES. IT MAY BE RETURNED, BUT FOR NOW IT IS NOT PART OF THE STORYLINE. WHEN I ORIGINALLY WROTE THIS, IT WOULD'VE FALLEN AFTER "HAVEN'T FELT LIKE THIS SINCE CAN'T REMEMBER WHEN". FOR ANYONE WHO CARES.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are All of Us, Out of Time

_Did you see them going off to fight, children of the barricade who didn’t last the night.  
_

* * *

Time is the one thing Maglor has always had and is the one thing he knows he will always have. Time can always be trusted. It never changes and it never conceals itself. Any concealing done that can be related to time can be traced back to people (humans, elves, dwarves, hobbits, orcs) and how they view it and how they measure it. Time – in it of itself – is simple, unchanging, unbendable and always so trustworthy.  
  
Time doesn’t fade away and die off like all other things do. It is in control and it weathers down all things that try to stand out or in its way. Time has taken everything from Maglor and will eventually take all he has now, but that is what time does. That’s its job. Its only promise is that ultimately, everything will end. And it keeps that promise. What it does may not be entirely – or, indeed at all, – pleasant, but it can be counted on. Time will always do what it says it will do. Maglor finds that reassuring. There is something in his life that he can cling to with the assurance that it will never change or abandon its purpose.  
  
All things and everyone changes over the course of their time alive, but time will never stab you in the back. Time will eventually come for you and when it does, time will take you, but time doesn’t try to pretend that this will not be the case. A person can try to delude themselves into thinking that time will somehow pass them by and leave them untouched, but that is on that person. Not time.  
  
Maglor thinks that maybe that shouldn’t be as reassuring as it is, but maybe it should be. Or can be. He doesn’t care. He can cling to the unchanging nature of time and so he does. He doesn’t see why he shouldn’t and honestly, if he could see a reason, he wouldn’t care. It’s no one’s place to make decisions for him but him, anyone who tries be damned. He’s finished letting other people make decisions for him. It never goes well and he’s destroyed enough of his life by standing by submissively. Time ticks on. It always has and always will.  
  
“Time is a constant,” He says aloud from the roof of the tower and Clint starts behind him. “I heard you come up,” Maglor says without turning to face the archer and Clint hums slightly in acknowledgement, but doesn’t say anything. He hesitates then moves to sit next to Maglor.  
  
“You alright?” He asks after a few minutes of silence.  
  
A wry smile makes its way onto Maglor’s lips. “Yeah, I think so,” He says, but then follows up with “I don’t know.”  
  
Clint doesn’t say anything and Maglor isn’t sure if it’s because he doesn’t know what to say or because he doesn’t feel like Maglor wants him to say anything. Either way, Maglor appreciates the silence. He doesn’t really want to be alone, but he doesn’t want to talk. He just wants to think.  
  
After a half hour of sitting silently, he turns to look at Clint. He still doesn’t say anything – words eluding him – and after a while, he takes a deep breath and looks away.  
  
Clint leaves after another hour or so and Maglor is alone again. He doesn’t even care. Alone is far more familiar than the opposite. He doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean. He still doesn’t really understand his own mind.  
  
Not that he would trust it if he did. He finds it incredibly hard to trust or ever believe even slightly anything his mind says. It turned against him once. It may have been a long time ago, but it only released him within the past half century after trying to permanently destroy him from the inside out and he still feels its last, gripping tendrils.  
  
The mark his years of insanity left on him will take many, many years to begin to fade and he has only just begun. That mark will never fade altogether. He sits for another few hours thinking about that before standing and going inside.  
  
The tower seems quiet, but appearances can be deceiving and when it comes to the Avengers, they practically always are. And on the rare occasion that they aren’t, it’s either something serious or you need to look harder.  
  
Tony is probably down in the lab and Bruce might be down with him and aside from that, Maglor doesn’t know how the appearance is deceiving tonight. At this point in his life, he’s prepared for almost anything. He rounds the corner to the kitchen and sees Thor standing in front of the counter with his head in his hands and shoulders slumped.  
  
Maglor stands there for a few minutes uncomfortably, and then he silently takes a deep breath and clears his throat. Thor’s head jerks up and Maglor sees that his cheeks are wet and his eyes are red. He swallows, then walks over to where Thor is standing and touches his shoulder. He feels Thor take a deep breath, but the thunderer doesn’t say anything. Maglor is no good at talking, but he stands by Thor for a few hours until the Asgardian looks at him and smiles. In the morning Thor’s cheeks are dry, but he sees Maglor and his eyes say _thank you_.

* * *

Somedays, Maglor feels like he’s running out of time and he feels like there’s a clock ticking somewhere for something, but he doesn’t know what for. He doesn’t know why he feels that way, but whatever the reason, he feels like he’s short on time.  
  
He doesn’t share that feeling with anyone and he doesn’t even allow himself to think about it for too long, but that doesn’t mean it goes away. It lingers and it festers deep within him and he’s constantly on edge. He thinks no one notices, but after a week or two of sneaking around corners and flinching every time a clock ticks and jumping when someone shouts or laughs loudly, Thor sits down next to him one afternoon and touches his shoulder. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t let go either.  
  
After a few minutes pass, Maglor takes a deep breath and then lets it out again and when he does, his shoulders are a bit less tense. He turns to thank Thor, but the thunderer shakes his head, stands and leaves the room. Maglor can’t find his voice in order to thank Thor anyway and so he just watches him go. When Thor is gone, Maglor takes another deep breath and closes his eyes. He feels calmer (for now) and before he realizes it, he’s drifted off to sleep.  
  
He wakes with a jolt when he hears a scream. He jumps to his feet and begins racing through the tower. Steve and Bucky find him an hour later. He’d dreamt the scream. He growls in annoyance low in his throat, then instantly regrets it and glances up and around to see if either super soldier had heard. He’s pretty sure that they both did, but neither of them say anything and the three sit there until Maglor feels he has sufficiently calmed down.  
  
He’s still tired, but he doesn’t want to go back to sleep yet and so he joins Steve and Bucky when they leave the tower to do something. He doesn’t know what they’re doing or where they’re going, and figures he’ll find out when they get to wherever they’re going, but twenty minutes into their…walk, he sees an eagle watching him out of the corner of his eye and he bolts.  
  
When he comes back to himself, he’s standing in a silent alleyway and he has no idea where he is. The eagle lands on a windowsill three floors up and blinks at him.  
  
Maglor sighs. “What do you want?” He asks, and it feels almost like giving up, but the eagle just stares at him, and then flies away again. The Noldorian (ex) royal is left standing alone in the alleyway.  
  
His knees buckle underneath him and he falls. He has to take deep gasping breaths as he fights to choke back sobs. “Come back,” he whispers and doesn’t know why he does, “Please…please come back.” He doesn’t know what he expects, but it’s not the gentle touch on the top of his head.  
  
He jerks his head up, expecting for there to be nothing there and no one above him, but there is and for a minute he freezes because he knows the face that is looking down at him and it can’t be…  
  
The two men stand there, frozen, for a few minutes and then Maglor raises a trembling hand to touch the one that is brushing his scalp. When he does so, whatever “spell” that had frozen the men breaks and the figure standing over Maglor drops to his knees and wraps his arms around Maglor and squeezes. One wheezing sob slips out of Maglor and then he can’t stop them and he clings desperately back.  
  
“I’ve got you Cana.” He hears as he struggles to get his breath back and keep it. His brother’s hand card through his hairs and he faintly hears Maedhros humming. He presses his face into Maedhros’ shoulder and takes in a deep breath, then lets it out. Another. Release. In. Out. In. Out. He can feel his heart pounding and he grasps frantically until he has a fistful of his elder brother’s shirt.  
  
Vaguely, he hears someone running towards their location and he then sees Steve come tearing into the alley, but he doesn’t do anything with the registered information. He just tightens his grip on his brother’s shirt and doesn’t react when Maedhros pulls him closer. He feels the red haired elf kiss the top of his head and then rest his chin there.  
  
He shivers and curls further in towards Maedhros, trying to get as close as possible. The steadying hand on his back begins to rub up and down and in circles and he feels himself begin to calm down. Finally, he finds his voice again and he whispers “Russandol…” His voice is weak and soft and it breaks halfway through the word.  
  
“Yes Cana,” Maedhros whispers, “I’m here.” Nothing makes sense; time has for once returned some of what it has taken and time doesn’t do that, but Maglor really, really doesn’t care about time anymore.


End file.
